


Dean Hated Terms of Endearment

by chainedtoacomet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-23
Updated: 2012-10-23
Packaged: 2017-11-16 21:12:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/543860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chainedtoacomet/pseuds/chainedtoacomet





	Dean Hated Terms of Endearment

Castiel had tried many.  Dean insisted they belonged only in “chick flicks.”

“Baby” earned Castiel a derisive snort.  ”Honey” was greeted with a threat to pluck Castiel’s wings bald.  ”Sweetheart” received a furrowed brow of contempt.  ”Darling” ended with Dean holding a pillow over Castiel’s face, as if to suffocate him.  ”Angels don’t need to breath, Dean, darling,” Castiel deadpanned when the pillow was removed.  Dean smothered him again.

In all the time that Castiel had watched over humanity and witnessed their joy in the throes of ecstasy and absorbed their quiet whispers in the dark when they thought no one else could hear, the angel  _knew_  that human couples often referred to one another with such saccharine nicknames as a sign of their affection.  It seemed only fitting that he should have one for Dean.

Castiel thought the problem was perhaps that the names were too generic; they did seem to lack a certain _je ne sais quoi._   Perhaps the key to an appropriate term of endearment would be found in something that Dean loved and held in high esteem.

“Pie” seemed like the obvious choice, but Dean mistook the endearment as an offer of dessert, and Castiel was sent flying off with an order for a slice “apple,  _dear God_ , apple,” and the promise of vengeful retribution if he returned with cake.   _Cake was not pie._

Castiel rummaged through the box of cassette tapes kept in the Impala’s glove compartment. “Iron Butterfly,” could do, or, perhaps, “My Blue Oyster.”  Castiel wondered if Dean would prefer “Echo,” or “Bunnyman.”

But none of these options seem  _right_.  Castiel decided it was best to be academic.

“Dean, I have finally settled on your term of endearment,” Castiel told him one evening, after they finished tracking—and killing—a wendigo.

“Cas,” Dean sighed. “Please don’t.”

“ _Dean_ ,” Castiel told him. “I will call you  _Dean_.”

Dean blinked at him, unfazed.  ”You’re going to call me my  _name_?”

“Your parents were very wise when they chose your name, Dean,” Castiel told him. “Did you know it means ‘valley’?  A low area, yes, but one lush with all the beauty of my father’s creation.  It is appropriate.”

“Uh huh.”

“In Hebrew, the name ‘Deen’ means ‘God will judge,” Castiel started, but Dean snickered.  Castiel ignored the interruption and continued.  ”It is also a Muslim name, which translates to ‘faith,’ or, perhaps more fitting, ‘way of life.’”

Dean quirked an eyebrow up at him. “Why is that fitting?”

“Because you are mine,” Castiel replied.


End file.
